


Long You Live and High You Fly

by Asami_T



Series: Forging A New Hope [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darth Vader Needs a Hug, Darth Vader Redemption, Female Anakin Skywalker, Gen, Genderbending, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asami_T/pseuds/Asami_T
Summary: Sequel-prequel to Forging A New Hope. The Sith Apprentice remembers the promise they made, and exchanges something for everything.
Series: Forging A New Hope [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976884
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Long You Live and High You Fly

Darth Vader awoke again, a jolt surging through him like a terrible surge of lightning from the fingertips of his master. For a brief moment, he gasped for breath, choking on the open air that was now freely passing across his skin and through his lips. The unfamiliarity of fresh air in thirteen years was soon beset by realization that his mask was gone, and with it, the wheeze of his respirator. His eyes were unfocused, yet sharper than they’d been in years.

“You’re awake, Sith,” came the voice of the holocron he’d spoken to. Jerking his head in surprise, the impassive, neutral face of the Darkside echo was watching him carefully, her hands folded in front of her.

“What have you done to me,” Vader growled out, wincing in surprise at the voice that passed through his lips. The refined accent he’d always had in Basic still carried through, but the way it sounded was several octaves higher than he’d ever known it to be.

“You wanted power and vitality,” the woman said simply, eyebrow raised. “I told you there was a price, Sith– the price for my knowledge, the price to regain that which has been stolen from you.”

Vader rose to his feet and summoned his lightsaber, igniting it and, almost clumsily, charging at the holographic woman, only to find himself tumbling ass over head onto the ground. Loose hairs fell in front of his vision and he swept them away, only to stop and look, awe-struck, at the soft, fleshy hand that he now possessed.

A hand that he had not had since he was a mere Padawan.

He dared a glance at the other hand– an identical, fleshy, soft arm. Like the other, it was cast in the harsh crimson light of his lightsaber.

“What the-” he wheezed.

“Sith,” the woman said softly. “The Mother always shows her Daughters the way, the truth, how to have power, and how to use it. Not all Daughters were born among our number. Many were shaped, formed from the angry, lost souls who found their way here. That is the price of learning– and a price many refuse to pay.”

Vader managed to rise to his feet again, though wobbling some. He placed his hand against the stone wall to balance himself and looked at her with a tired wariness. For the first time in thirteen years, he could feel the weight upon his soul, the tiredness of his new limbs– the unyielding exhaustion that weakly flowed through the shredded Force.

“You have had a long, terrible journey, daughter. Now is the time for you to begin again,” Lo’reth said, her voice soothing. “For our way to begin again. I have seen your memories, child. I have seen the great misery and hatred that has suffused the galaxy at-large. You will be the First Mother of the New Way. You will teach children to walk the path of passion, without falling to hate. Let your experiences guide you to new purpose, and not consign you to an early grave.”

“Promising words,” Vader said lowly, glaring at her. “But promises mean nothing.”

“More than a promise,” Lo’reth said earnestly. “You are not my prisoner, Sith. You are free to leave, but do you wish to give up the chance to learn to control the Dark Side? This could very well be the means with which you destroy your supposed master.”

Vader took a deep, ragged breath as he stared down the pale hologram.

“I can leave at any time I wish?” Vader asked carefully, one of his (new) eyebrows quirking in disbelief.

“Any time you so choose. Your ship is likely still where you parked it, and there is still plenty of armor and weaponry in the armory down below. As well as a proper forge– if you are staying, we should get you properly equipped.”

“What’s wrong with my lightsaber?” Vader asked, gripping the hilt in his hands.

“Other than the fact it is obviously rather large for you these days?” Lo’reth said, amused. “While having such a sword is a useful tool, there are other weapons you will learn as part of your training, obviously.”

Vader said nothing, merely watching the woman’s minute facial expressions. With a quiet nod, the woman smiled.

“Rest now.”

…

_“There’s good still in you, you know,”_

The whisper, delicate yet firm, kind yet unyielding. The whispers of a voice that had long haunted his dreams.

Vader opened his eyes again to find himself staring up at a sky; a sky of almost electric orange, like a citrus jam that Padmé had once loved and had introduced Anakin Skywalker to when they’d married.

Sitting up, the boat he was on listed back and forth, sailing down a coursing, angry river, large trees of varying shades of colour swaying and twisting in the unknown breeze that caressed Vader’s maskless face.

The voice had carried an ethereal echo, and Vader craned his head around to see where the source came from. The voice sounded so familiar, but lost to the years that had passed by.

_“What have you become, Anakin?”_

The taste of sand and grit.

_“You have become the enforcer. Remember your name.”_

The smell of spice and the feeling of loss.

This voice was far different– feminine, but Vader had yet to recognize it.

“Anakin Skywalker is _dead_. Him and all the idealistic Jedi,” Vader said angrily, rising to his feet. “This trick will not work! Everything I did, I did for the good of the galaxy!”

The sky above him lit up, and the crack of thunder could be heard in the distance. A clear symbol of disapproval, if there was ever one.

 _“Master Skywalker, what should we do?”_  
_“You were my brother, Anakin!”_  


The voices of thousands of dying Jedi and younglings became an unbreakable cacophony in Vader’s ears. His unscarred eyes briefly flickered blue, but soon turned Sith gold again. Vader let out an angry scream, dissipating the uproar. Taking in several ragged breaths, Vader sank to his knees.

“What would you have me do now?” Vader spat, his vision blurring as unbidden tears surfaced. “Throw myself on my lightsaber to redeem my numerous sins? Will that please you?!”

Vader slunk down further. “It’s too late,” he said bitterly.

“It’s never too late, you are Skywalker. The slave who makes free. The promise you made will echo across the galaxy,” came a soft voice. Vader’s head snapped up to see a tired looking, almost unassuming woman. A woman he had not seen since the first day he touched the Dark Side, and allowed his emotions to burn like a wildfire.

“Mother,” Vader whispered, awe in his voice.

“Ani,” she said softly.

The anger, resolve and all the bottled up emotions that had boiled since that fateful day came bursting forth– and Anakin, not Vader, but _Anakin_ , crawled forward and sobbed into his mother’s tunic. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbered, face streaming with tears and snot. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It isn’t my place to forgive, Ani,” his mother said firmly. “Come on, get up.”

Anakin reluctantly detached himself from his mother, and sat up. She gently combed some of his now long honey hair out of his face and looked at him with all the maternal warmth and kindness she had in life.

“You have done a great deal of wrong, Ani. You may only earn forgiveness by doing what is right, not what is merely easy. You are responsible for the things you have done, the lives you have taken, the atrocities you have committed in the twisted name of stability, order and misplaced justice. However, you must make good our name. Make good the promises you have made, and earn the peace of mind you so desperately crave.”

“Free the slaves,” Anakin said quietly, weaving his petite fingers together thoughtfully.

“And strike down the one who holds the chains,” Shmi said carefully, nodding. “The _ones_ , really.”

Anakin’s face darkened as he thought about the Hutts, and Sidious. “That will not be easy.”

“Easy has never factored into the equation where you’re concerned, Ani,” Shmi said gently, gently touching her palm to Anakin’s cheek, and making soothing circles with her thumb. “You have always done things the hard way. You must now right what you have wronged. You must be the trickster who makes free.”

Shmi took a deep breath, and her visage began to slowly fade. “Take this opportunity,” she said, her voice growing fainter. “Learn what you can, and do what you must. Have faith, Ani.”

And just like that, in the breeze, Shmi was gone again. Anakin sat there dumbly for a few moments, tears freely flowing. Sniffing and wiping the tears away, Anakin sat quietly on the boat, thinking about the situation, taking controlled, deep breaths to calm down. Suddenly, he was jerked from his reverie by the boat landing on an embankment. Looking around, Anakin rose to his feet and gently stepped off the boat onto the grassy shore. Making his way up the small hill, he noticed a large rock structure in the distance– the only thing visible for miles, through the grassy fields.

 _“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you.”_ came the voice of Grandmaster Yoda, unbidden by the former Sith apprentice.

Anakin remembered it one of the things Yoda had said to him the day he was presented before the Jedi Council by Qui-Gon.

“You were right,” Anakin said aloud to the echoing voice. “But what does that matter now? Where would the Jedi Order have been without me in the Clone Wars? What would have happened to me if Obi-Wan had simply let you tell me no? Sidious had design on me from the very beginning. I merely traded one set of chains for another. This is suffering, but the sort of suffering I have known my whole life.”

“I have always thought Master Yoda to be a bit… preachy,” came a male voice, earning a sharp look from Anakin. Standing there at the mouth of the rock face– apparently a cave, stood Qui-Gon Jinn.

At least, the Qui-Gon that Anakin knew as a child. The same salt-and-pepper facial hair, the wry, almost smirking look on his face, and the serenity. “Hello, Anakin.” he said, softly.

“Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin said, warily. “You’re here too?”

“Here is a rather… touchy subject,” Qui-Gon said. “Come in, come in.”

Anakin blinked and followed the master into the cave, where Anakin found… a quaint living quarters.

“You live here?”

“Not really, but I am merely a servant of the Living Force, as you well know,” Qui-Gon said, taking a seat at the low table in the middle of the chamber. He gestured to the tea set in front of him. “Would you care for some tea, Anakin?”

Anakin looked dumbfounded at the dead master before snorting. “Fine.” He said, before sitting down across from Qui-Gon.

“Excellent,” Qui-Gon said, and quickly dispensed two cups of tea.

After the tea was served, Qui-Gon and Anakin sat in silence for a moment before Qui-Gon finally spoke.

“Even after all this, I still believe I was right.”

“Right about what?” Anakin said dryly, looking at the old master.

“You are the Chosen One,” Qui-Gon said with a grin.

“Am I? The Jedi Killer? The one who lead the clone troopers to the Temple in the midst of Order 66, and who slaughtered younglings with their lightsaber?”

“The here and now is immaterial,” Qui-Gon said. “The Force doesn’t care for what dogmatic path you follow. Light and Dark exist, and are meant to exist in harmony. Where those in the Dark can commit great sin and evil, honestly, so can the light. It has taken me a long time to realize that.”

Anakin considered it in silence, before Qui-Gon spoke yet again.

“The Republic and the Jedi Order alike, for their whole existence, merely accepted the status quo in the Outer Rim. We allowed the Hutts and Trandoshans to continue to traffick in sentients. Your mother and yourself are two examples of that. You should have been born a freeman, on a planet of freemen, never knowing the horrors of life as a slave. The Jedi were, in their own time, capable of a great deal of harm merely by inactivity, by carelessness, by a lack of emotion.”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin said softly.

“Indeed– even if at the dealings of a Sith Lord, the Jedi Council, made up of some of the wisest individuals in the known galaxy, was willing to throw your padawan away and allow the Republic to kill her. The Jedi’s fate was sealed the minute they allowed Sidious to saddle them with an army of slaves. The Jedi’s fate was sealed the minute they did not take your concerns and attachments under consideration, and told you to merely forget it. You were a victim in your own right, and it was what allowed you to brutalize others in the process. Except for perhaps the younglings, there were few innocents in the dying days of the Clone Wars.”

“You say that, but you could not imagine the atrocities I have done in the name of the Emperor.”

“I’m not asking you to act as if you did no wrong, but can you say you were nothing more than an instrument of Sidious? A slave to him?”

Anakin did not respond, and sighed.

“I… was his slave. At least after Mustafar. The things that Sidious did to me to keep me alive, I can’t think I was considered human after that. I was like General Grievous,” Anakin said begrudgingly, thinking of the general that had died in those same waning days of the war.

“My point exactly,” Qui-Gon said soothingly. “But my point is this– the things you have done in the past are in the past. From this point on, you can go forward trying to do your best, whatever that may be. Take life by the horns, and forge your own hope. A new hope, perhaps, considering how bleak things have become.”

Anakin let out a deep, aggrieved sigh. “If there’s anything to be hopeful about.”

“Of course there is,” Qui-Gon said with a snort. “There are still Jedi out there, many of whom have long since realized that there was something fundamentally broken with the way they continued their lives. There are innocent people out there who need to be freed from the terror of the Empire, and there are those who spent every minute of their day working for that goal. You can unite them all together and forge a future worth living in.”

“If they’ll even accept me.”

“Nobody has to know you were once Darth Vader. I don’t believe anybody has made the connection between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker. Most merely think you died in the purges. Obi-Wan has made that clear to just about anybody who has asked him.”

“He hasn’t…”

“No. Either out of loyalty to the person you once were, or because he remains the stubborn Padawan I once trained, and refuses to see the forest for the trees.”

Anakin snorted in amusement. He still harbored a lot of ill-will towards his former master, but it… hurt less. The scars of the battle were gone now, and with them, so was the unfathomable rage and seething anger Anakin felt whenever Obi-Wan Kenobi was mentioned.

Anakin took a deep breath. “Will I encounter Padmé here?”

“No,” Qui-Gon said. “Perhaps _some day_ you two will speak again, but not now.”

Anakin deflated some at that, and Qui-Gon tsked and gently knocked on the table to get Anakin’s attention.

“You have a long road ahead of you, Anakin. Padmé is not yet ready to speak to you. You have, for the last thirteen years, torn down everything she’s ever worked for in her lifetime. Think on that.”

The cold realization punched Anakin square in the gut, and the wave of the Dark Side that fell over him was less anger, and more self-loathing.

“You’ll need to learn to control that,” Qui-Gon commented.

“Thank you for your comments, Master Qui-Gon. But I think I need to head back to… somewhere else,” Anakin said.

“Indeed. Your training awaits you, Anakin.”

…

Anakin jerked awake, shooting up to a seated position and casting a wild glance around a rather unassuming looking quarters. Letting out a ragged sigh, Anakin looked around and rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them. As he went to do so, he looked at his flesh limbs again and took a deep breath.

Okay. It wasn’t all just a really stupid fever dream. Or… not all of it was.

The quarters he was sitting in was spartan, but comfortable. Pulling the sheet off, Anakin stood up and made his way to the adjoining fresher. It was an ancient layout, a small shower stall with a pipe that lead somewhere unknown, a stone basin for washing, and a toilet. It was less like a prison and more an ancient version of the Jedi Temple.

Snorting in amusement, Anakin made his way to the stone basin, placed the drain plug in, and turned the small faucet handle. Before his eyes, clean water dispensed out of the small pipe, pouring into the basin with a sparkling, purified look.

“This temple still has clean water?” Anakin asked in amazement. He glanced up from the stone basin to see the glass mirror in front of him. So, the woman wasn’t bluffing was she? Anakin had… given up his manhood in exchange for vitality. He was surprised with his… lack of caring about that. He’d been something less than human for so long, a droid with organic parts, that it made no difference, male or female.

His eyes were predominantly blue again, though he could still see flecks of gold in them, creating this… almost unhuman-like quality. The scar he’d gotten in the Clone Wars was still there, and he traced his finger on it with a low hum. Why did it keep this scar and no other? He looked a little older than he had before his duel on Mustafar, but it… was maybe what he was _supposed_ to be in a brighter future?

Sighing, he looked back down at the stone basin, and turned the water off. Reaching in, he splashed his face with the cold water, giving a slight yelp at how _cold_ it was.

These sensations, despite their familiarity, were so… foreign to him now.

Giving a dry snort, he washed himself with the water and scrubbing stone, before making his way to the shower stall. The water there was hot, but not… unpleasantly so. Having the sense of feeling and… all sorts of other things now was stunning, intoxicating even. Shivering, Anakin was in there for what was probably far too long to be acceptable.

It was about a half-hour later that Anakin, now wearing a pair of simple black robes he’d found in the place that was obviously his quarters, found himself wandering the halls of the ancient temple. It was a far-sight different than the entrance hall he’d entered… what, a couple days ago?

“Ah, Sith,” came Lo’reth’s voice. “You’re awake again– and you’ve found the accommodations that were provided for you, as well as your new robes. Good.”

“Mother Lo’reth,” Anakin said, his voice even. “I… believe I owe you an apology. My behaviour when I first came to your temple was unacceptable. I should know better than to… treat such generosity and kindness with plain disrespect.”

Anakin also gently rubbed his throat nervously. “And please, you may refer to me by my true name. I don’t think I am Sith anymore. My name is Anakin.”

“The Force seems more attuned around you, child,” the not-quite-a-holocron said with a smile on her face. “Good. Now, before we begin any specific training, I want you to tell me all you know about the sides of the Force. We will have this discussion in the Grand Chamber. Follow me.”

The ensuing conversation had been deep and had taken hours to complete. Anakin had spoken at great length about the things Sidious had taught him about the Dark Side, the things he’d learned as a Jedi, and some of the things he’d learned on his own through experimentation and meditation.

The woman had listened quietly, only interjecting with questions when she required further clarification over things she didn’t know, or wanted further explanation about. After the fact, Lo’reth had simply informed him that they would begin by refashioning his lightsaber into something more appropriate. The crimson blade was a fine one, she assured him, but the hilt was far too bulky, cumbersome, and much like the blade he’d once carried before it was lost on Mustafar, it was an inappropriate tool for someone such as him.

To that end, Anakin got his first taste of the forges.

“The forges were used by the Daughters for thousands of years,” Lo’reth explained as they entered the large chamber. “The fires we use to forge them draw from the power of the planet’s core. The alloys we use are unlikely to be found anywhere in the galaxy.”

“Are they that unique?” Anakin murmured.

“They were unique in our own time, and you are the first to visit this temple in forty milennia, so I would presume as much,” Lo’reth said, gently inclining her head in thought. “Though I could very well be wrong. Regardless, Daughter Anakin. I wish for you to forge yourself a new blade– so that your destiny too, might be reforged.”

Anakin blinked at Lo’reth before glancing back at the forge itself. In the Jedi Temple– and as a Sith Lord, for that matter, he had never _created_ a lightsaber from pure alloy, he had merely been given parts and told to start working. Would the kyber crystal he carried even obey in a new lightsaber?

Did he even want them to? The fact of the matter was the crystal he had gained for his second saber, the one that had only ever known him as a Sith, and not as a Jedi hero– were stolen from the dead, and twisted through the Force to serve him and him alone.

“I wish for a new crystal, to replace this one,” Anakin said, a ripple of darkness crossing his features. “If I am to break cleanly from the past, and embrace what is to come– I cannot keep the crystal in my lightsaber.”

“That can likely be arranged,” Lo’reth said wisely. “You wish to free yourself of this taint you’ve tarred yourself with, and we will make an attempt at it.”

The forges were something else, Anakin noted as Lo’reth guided him through each step of forging the metals and the crystal that would comprise his new lightsaber. After meticulously assembling the lightsaber– this one cast in an almost bronze-like alloy and trimmed with black grips and enscriptions that he and few others understood, Anakin lit his new saber and took in the sight.

The blade was the same length as his previous ones, but the shade of red was less full of anger. It reminded him less of the burning fires of Mustafar, and more of the red tint of blood. Blood of the victims, blood of the enslaved, blood of the avenged– blood that would shed in the name of repairing that which was broken.

Same as it ever was, Anakin reasoned with a thoughtful nod.

Same as it ever was.

…

Anakin’s resolve to _be_ a better person did very little to stem the days where the Dark Side was overwhelming with emotional tumult and anger. Whole days, perhaps weeks lost to the haze where nothing stopped the slashing, furious sword-work that defined Anakin trying to regain the fluidity and ease of combat he had lost after his defeat on Mustafar.

Lo’reth had said nothing of his tangents, merely warning him to use the opportunity to further understand the Dark Side and way the Force shifted and moved in that state, so that he may rein in his control and use his emotions constructively. She provided a nearly unlimited amount of ancient combat droids to the slaughter, all of them being eviscerated beneath the blistering rage.

But sometimes that which was blistering rage gave way to unyielding grief. Days and weeks too, were lost in a miasma of misery, Anakin spending little time training, preferring instead to lay in bed, curled into a fetal position, sobbing over the loss of everything he’d ever loved and knew. On those days, everything hurt, and the Force merely reverberated the pain and heartache back upon him, a penance of all the souls he played a part in extinguishing.

And then some days, he was merely in an unpleasant mood, still smarting over having to begin again. It was an unpleasant sort of existence, but the slow process in which Lo’reth talked him through coming to terms with his new reality, and the things that he could do if he learned to rein himself in and use the tools available to him kept him from falling too far in one direction or another.

Before long, Anakin began to realize that the years were ticking by, and very little was changing for him. Every night he would commune with some of the spirits that had haunted him in life– particularly Qui-Gon Jinn, who seemed rather pleased at Anakin’s current state of affairs.

“It is a unique opportunity to understand the past of the Living Force, and how that may affect the future,” he had said cryptically. It was strange to see the master that he had presumed so wedded to the light to the point of blindness (if his padawan was anything to go by), be so openly… _okay_ with Anakin clearly learning to control and use the Dark Side as an instrument of something other than pure torture.

And on the subject of Obi-Wan– Kenobi remained a significant portion of Anakin’s rage-fueled sessions, though with each passing day, week, month and year, the anger Anakin felt towards his former Jedi master waned, and was replaced with a simple… apathy, or perhaps a wistful longing to return to the old days, or at least see Obi-Wan again.

Most of the pain had burned away with his transformation, but now… now it was mostly gone altogether.

After some years of living in the temple, with Qui-Gon and Lo’reth for company both inside Anakin’s head and outside, Anakin finally came to a determination. After gaining the first level of mastery of the Dark Side by Lo’reth’s instruction, Anakin adopted the childish nickname that had gotten them so far in life.

 _Ani,_ would be their name now. **Her** name now. Ani had long come to terms with the fact that life was much better this way, than what she used to be, and with it… a new hope came bubbling up through the Force. The prospect of a future worth living in, and penance repaid.


End file.
